Of Warp Drives and Dark Energies
by mnementh2000
Summary: One universe lies unknowingly at the brink of disaster, the other reels from an all-consuming war. Both collide in a way that will change them forever, as they pursue their own goals, ultimately finding that their fates are intertwined more than they could ever know. Early chapters ST-centric and based on actual episodes.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:  
** This story is an expansion (with the original author's permission) of a crossover prompt on the Mass Effect kink meme, filled by **shadowsoffense.** The original was a ficlet that I obtained permission to expound upon, and this is the result. The first few chapters will be Star trek-centric, drawing from the series and the original Motion Picture, and will go from there.

I do not own any rights to Star Trek or Mass Effect.

* * *

**Prologue - The Beginning  
**

A lone figure hung in the dark emptiness of space, oblivious to the fact that there was no atmosphere, and that the temperature was near absolute zero, kelvin. It turned slowly, surveying it's surroundings, as if looking for something, or expecting some occurrence. If anyone could analyze the current state of the area, they would find little of interest, little to draw said figure's attention so – little light, save from the distant stars, almost no matter or debris (not even any real space dust) to speak of. The entire region was devoid of anything to recommend it, except for the lone figure slowly staring about. The nearest star with intelligent life was light-years away.

The being frowned heavily, knowing what was about to occur. What was shortly to take place would alter history forever, at least for this little timeline. As interesting as that change was likely to be, it saddened the figure, as that change would be violent, destructive, and almost unstoppable… almost. There was a slight chance to avert the totality of life's destruction, but it would take someone of extreme character, and that person did not exist, as far as it knew, at this point in time.

_So, this is where it will happen, where it will all begin. All I can do right now is watch, and wait. Ach! I absolutely _hate_ having to wait. I also despise having to sit back and watch on the sidelines, like some helpless spectator. Still, I am bound on this one. There's nothing that I can do; the others have made sure of that._

It was at that moment that the region of space that was so uninteresting only minutes before, so devoid of _anything_, erupted with a brilliant flash of light and energy, as a great rift in space opened up, spewing forth energies of such magnitude that the nearby solar systems were obliterated instantaneously. As the entity watched and contemplated the situation, tetrion particles built up to dangerous levels, aggravating the already bad situation, allowing that rift to expand into a full-blown chasm. The being turned to look, a pensive look on it's face, already upset over the loss of those systems. This wasn't right, it was not supposed to happen. Things like this were supposed to be nearly impossible, a drop of sand on the beach, but here it was, happening right in front of it. The figure knew that this was only the beginning. This had occurred many times over, recently. The entity had observed the same set of circumstances too many times already in recent memory, in what most beings would consider only a couple of decades. The affected multiverses were completely overwhelmed, unable to stop the lightning-fast spread of the interlopers. They were utterly lost, absorbed into the greater whole of their vastly superior abilities.

The being watched as, through the rift in space, first one, then dozens, then over a hundred, objects passed through. It listened as the vessels, as it knew they were, began to chatter back and forth, attempting to analyze their new situation. If anything, they were great at adapting to new situations. After several minutes of communications, they turned as one, speeding off towards the nearest inhabited planet.

A pained expression crossed the face of the figure, as it deemed it time to move off, deciding to head to it's favorite planet in the current galaxy, in a backwater little solar system, within a distant arm, only recently aware of the existence of other life in the universe, though it's inhabitants had speculated for some time. It needed a diversion from it's darkening mood, and this planet never ceased to provide that distraction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat in the central seat upon the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D, eying the screen carefully, studying his counterparts therein. The negotiations had gone on for a longer length of time than had been previously expected. Both sides had refused to give even an inch, claiming that theirs was the right of things.

The diplomat on the left moved about upon four sets of short, insect-like legs, possessed two pairs of longer arms, likewise very insectoid in appearance. It's total length was nearly ten feet, and it stood a good seven feet tall, covered in hard armored plating of a deep rusty red color, obviously accustomed to a more… forceful… type of negotiations. Those same plates bore the scars of years of aggressive diplomacy, even through the ritual, formal, iridescent green body painting that it so proudly displayed, covering it from the top of it's head down, it's back, and to mid-body, in intricate designs that spoke of hours of painting. The clear multi-faceted eyes were glued to the view screen, changing to a shade of blue that Picard knew from studying the species, meant that it was becoming more agitated and frustrated.

_The eyes, that is the way to tell their emotional state. Their body language will not give anything away, as they are accustomed to staying perfectly still for days on end while stalking prey. Red is contentment for them; blue, agitation; yellow, anger; green, I'll leave that one alone, _Picard thought to himself, schooling his facial expression before he lost his composure in front of the diplomats in front of him, which could prove disastrous at the moment. _I need to get the two species to agree to work together, here; yet, neither one wants to see the other side of things. Besides, it isn't as if they would be dealing with each other all that much._

He turned his attention to the other delegate on the split screen, contemplating what he had read of it's species, stifling a sigh that nearly escaped his lips. The entity on the right-hand partition of the screen was of clearly aquatic descent, with a row of gills running down the side of it's head, along the short neck. A tall frill, tipped with a pair of sharp, poisoned spines, ran the length of it's exposed upper body. The fore-limbs ended with a pair of 'hand's' that contained three digits that folded against another two, giving the water predator the ability to grasp it's prey tightly, also allowing them to develop a sophisticated society, based on the strongest leading them. As the delegate spoke, large teeth would become visible within it's equally large mouth.

_This species is even harder to read. Their eyes are jet-black, showing no emotion whatsoever, their body_ _language almost nonexistent; the only way to tell anything about them is to watch that frill along their spine. When threatened or upset, they raise it, otherwise it stays laying flat against their back. When angered, the spines are brought forward and extended. Also, the first digit on each hand has a hollow claw, with a poison gland at it's base, used in battle – both ritual and for survival. Actually, they resemble an ancient Earth legend, something called mermen, in appearance. Interesting to find a species out here that so closely resembles a creature from our own legends._

With an effort, he brought his attention back to the task at hand.

"Ambassadors, please, there is no need for the accusations and discourteous language. We are all here to try to settle this argument in a peaceful manner. The way that I see things, your species," and he gestured to the aquatic one, "is interested in the vast waterways of the fourth world, as well as those on the moon of the fifth; yours, ambassador," he turned his eyes to the insect-like diplomat, "would like to take advantage of the land masses of the same moon, as well as the more arid, desert-like fifth planet itself. Am I correct in my understanding of the situation at hand?"

A series of clicks and chirrups was picked up by the audio speakers, which the computer ran through the universal translator, from one diplomat, as well as the whistles and sounds emanating from the aquatic one, likewise being translated – both to the affirmative. This was part of the delay in the negotiations, the time required for the translator to do it's job.

"Then, may I inquire as to the problem? We have been here, listening to both sides' grievances about the other, for two days; however, I have heard no reason why the two of your species could not share the moon or the solar system. Yours is an aquatic race, and not suited for terrestrial endeavors, while you are the opposite, interested in the land, but not really in the watery aspect of the moon. It seems to me that the only place that your two peoples would have any contact would be upon the moon, and at that, only at water's edge. Yes, both of your peoples are predatory races, but you would be hunting and occupying different parts of the planets."

Both ambassadors looked at the screen, at the balding captain that was sent to facilitate an agreement between them, taken off guard. Apparently, this logic did not occur to them, both determined to be the masters of the new planets and solar system, not really thinking of the simple solution of sharing, something that was a foreign concept to the two species that had risen to be the apex species of their own systems, never having to share their power or territory. Now, they would have to share a system and it's planets, however, they didn't think about what parts of the planets that they would each be interested in.

Two sets of mouths opened and closed simultaneously, attempting to refute the simple logic presented them, yet no sound was uttered. Picard smiled tightly at the change in behavior between the two quarreling diplomats, and noticed the signs of embarrassment upon the two – the merman, for lack of better term (they had not translated the species' name) was actually hunching slightly, with the color along it's sides changing to a subtle shade of yellow (one of the few outward signs of emotion for that race); the ch'korg ambassador's eyes rippled through several colors, as they did when embarrassed, while refusing to look directly at the screen.

"I take it by your reactions, that this solution did not cross your minds. With your permission, I would like to have my staff work up an agreement for your two peoples, over the fair and mutual use of the available planets within the system. I am sure that your two races could eventually come to respect each other, once you realize that they are not a threat to each other's respective element – water, for you, and land, for yours."

Eager to save face, and not to look the continued aggressor to it's counterpart, they both readily agreed to Picard's suggestion.

"In that case, I will assign Mr. Data and a team to draft the appropriate papers. We will have them sent to your respective computers for your perusal as soon as we can. Please be patient a little longer. I am sure that this should not take too long.

"Thank you for your consideration in this matter. Picard, out."

With a beep in acknowledgement of the end of the transmission, the channel closed, and the captain stood, straightening his uniform.

"Data, I want you to assemble your team, and to start on the documents immediately. Will, you have the bridge. Give me a call if we have any other problems."

With that, he adjourned to his ready room and sank wearily into the chair. Rubbing the sides of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, he called to the computer.

"Computer, tea, earl gray, 39 Celsius."

A low hum sounded throughout the small room, and Picard stood to retrieve the beverage from the food replicator. Strolling back to his chair, he stopped briefly to study the lionfish within the bubble tank in his wall. His nerves began to calm down as he sipped at his drink of choice and pondered the fish in the wall aquarium. As he watched Lexington swim idly within that sphere, his door chimed, alerting him to the presence of someone wishing entry. With a weary voice, he called out.

"Come."

The door slid into the wall, and in stepped Deanna Troi, a concerned look in her eyes and voice as she addressed him.

"Captain, is everything all right?"

Picard studied his ship's councilor a moment. The young woman wore her dark, curly hair in a ponytail on this day, a blue dress uniform, and sat erect on the edge of her chair opposite her captain. Finally, deciding on the appropriate response to her question – which was to tell the truth, instead of brushing off her concerns – Picard spoke.

"Sometimes, when dealing with other species, it feels like I am babysitting children," he said with a sigh. She frowned at this, fully aware of his discomfort around children, and his feelings about families in general on a starship. He continued: "It's as if they refuse to see beyond their own immediate concerns, their own desires. Often times, like this one, the solution is looking them in the face, but they refuse to see it, or _can't_ see it, due to their own arrogance and self-importance. On top of that, they seem to think that they are the only ones that matter, and refuse to see the point of view of the other side.

"You know that I love my job as the captain of a starship, but sometimes… I don't know, sometimes it gets so bogged down with bickering and arguing. I always felt that Starfleet was established to explore the galaxy, and for quite some time that was what we did. Now, we almost do more mediating and the like, than we do exploring."

Deanna studied the man across from her as he settled back in his chair a little further. She knew that the captain's heart and soul lay in exploration, the discoveries that lay 'out there', waiting to be made by the intrepid souls willing to boldly venture forth. That same spirit resided in many of those that made Starfleet their career of choice, especially those that founded that same entity. True, not all ships could be exploration vessels, traveling beyond known space; in fact, a goodly number of Starfleet's vessels regularly patrolled the known regions, protecting the boarders and providing aid to allies. Still, there were those, like the Enterprise, herself, who were slated as exploration ships, with the Enterprise being the flagship of the fleet.

"Exploration is still the expressed mission of Starfleet, Captain; that mandate has never changed. What _has_ changed, though, is the fact that we have so many peoples looking to us for guidance and protection, as well as insight and wisdom. As the number of member races grows, and our sphere of influence expands, those needs also grow. We are needed on an ever greater basis."

"That is true, but so often those same people act more like school ground bullies and spoiled children than thinking adults. That is where my frustration is coming from, I believe. So often, these disputes could be settled so much easier if they would just sit down and _listen_, rather than bickering and throwing insults. Take the current situation – the ch'Korg and the other species – we just spent the last two days listening as they spewed threats and insults, not to mention accusations, back and forth, before we finally found out what the whole problem was. Once that dispute's point was established, it was only a matter of mediating a mutual apportioning agreement between the two. If they had sat down and _thought_ and_ talked_ about things, we could have avoided two days' worth of needless fighting."

The ship's councilor smiled at her captain, then answered his statement.

"And there you have hit upon the crux of the problem – they are spoiled. So many of these races that we encounter have risen from a meager existence within their own worlds, to being the alpha species, with everything else subject to their every whim and desire. Suddenly, they are thrust into the bigger galaxy, where they now need to learn to share and consider others. We have to be the mentors to them, showing them the way, guiding them as they grow beyond themselves, as they integrate into the larger picture. That is a slow process, often times painful and frustrating.

"As the captain of a starship, especially the flagship of the Federation, you have a responsibility towards those same species, to provide that guidance. In a way, as the captain, you have to act the parent to those under you, as well as those that we are called upon to aid. If you think about it, you are stating a common complaint of many parents: you wish to be doing one thing, but are constrained to accomplish something else – just as many parents would want to be at some other task, but are bound to guide and raise their children instead."

The Captain looked down in thought for a few moments, digesting what he had just heard. He gave a half chuckle, curving one corner of his mouth up in a self-deprecating half-smile.

"I guess I did sound a bit like a petulant parent, didn't I. I just get frustrated sometimes, and it does feel good to have a listening ear as I let it out. Thank you, Councilor. I guess we should head back out. I'll join you in a moment."

"That is quite all right, sir. Everyone has to release their feelings and fears once in a while. Just remember that's the reason that I am here."

Troi stood up and walked to the door, then flashed a smile back at Picard, before stepping out the door once it opened for her. Picard pressed his fingers together in a steeple in front of his face, as his eyes unfocused, his mind light-years away in thought. Several minutes later, he exited his own chair and replaced his used tea cup back in the food replicator, and left his ready room.

* * *

**Captain's Log**_: We are back on course, continuing our way along our mapping and probing mission. After another four days of negotiations, the treaty over land rights was signed by both the ch'Korg and the other species (whom our Universal Translator and the ship's computer still have not been able to properly translate), granting them both rights to their respective favored environments. I have recommended to Starfleet that they send an envoy to keep an eye over the two races for the foreseeable future, as they both tend toward a rather… aggressive… way of problem solving - and I do see the distinct possibility for problems within the near future as both sides settle in to their respective roles within the agreement._

_I, for one, am looking forward to a little simple scanning and probing for a couple of days, before we really get back down to serious exploration. With any luck, we may stumble upon a new race, a planet full of archeological remnants, or something similarly stimulating. _

_I am still meeting with Councilor Troi, as per her suggestion, to try to lift this dismal mood that seems to have settled over me during the negotiations. It seems to be helping, and I am able to keep it from my expressions while interacting with the rest of the crew. My actions and temper had become rather short at the end, and I ended up apologizing to Will after a particularly short response on the day of the treaty's signing. After that, Troi pulled me aside and immediately set a time for my appointment with her. She has ordered Holodeck time for me each day, to try to counteract my growing dissatisfied mood._

Picard put his horse through his paces, as he obeyed his Councilor's advice, which was more of an order than anything else. She had even had Doctor Crusher add her own voice on the matter, though they kept the whole thing off of official record. True, Troi kept her private records of patient/ therapist meetings – his own included – however, those were sealed and kept under the strictest confidence, unless unsealed by court order or an official investigation by Starfleet. He had to admit, though, that he had started to feel better, after being able to just relax in the company of the stallion, with little more to do than see to his care, grooming, and exercise, for a while each day – or any other relaxing scenario that he decided to do during that one to two hours per day.

The Captain of the Enterprise spurred the stallion on, urging him forward, and held on as the horse easily cleared the fence they jumped over. They followed the path around the grounds, trotting at pace, Picard reveling in the sensation of the powerful beast at his command that he sat upon. He suddenly, in a moment of whim, pulled the reigns to the right, sending the now-galloping horse across a field, through a stand of trees, and over another fence. This was pure joy, just him, the horse he rode, and the wind and open space about him – without a care in the world.

A few minutes later, there was a small chiming sound, followed by the voice of the ship's computer reminding him that his shift on the bridge would be starting in roughly forty-five minutes. Almost reluctantly, he guided the equestrian back to the stalls, dismounted, and gently ran a hand over it's muzzle and flanks, apologizing for the abrupt departure.

"Exit," he called to thin air, and a double door appeared out of nowhere, splitting open to reveal the hallways of his beloved ship, bustling with activity as people passed by on errands of their own.

Picard returned to his room to freshen up and change into the familiar red and black uniform for his shift, then made his way to the nearest turbolift. A few minutes later, he strolled onto the bridge, relieving the nightshift officer who was all too eager to end his own stint in the captain's chair. As he took his seat, others of the day shift began to trickle in – Riker, with a huge grin on his face, as he came to the punch line of some joke he was relaying to Deanna Troi, who was likewise smiling in amusement; young Mr. Crusher, who appeared to have recently awaken, as he yawned mightily, covering his mouth with his hand in courtesy; Data, who never required sleep, and was eternally punctual. He smiled as he thought of that; you could almost set the Enterprise's internal clocks to Data's routine punctuality, he was that reliable. He knew that the same changeover was occurring with similar efficiency throughout the ship, from the bridge down through engineering.

"You seem in better spirits today, Sir!" Riker opened, as took his seat to the right of Picard.

"Indeed! It's good to see you smiling so freely once again, Captain," offered Troi, sitting at his left.

"I am grateful to be under way once again. This is what we are meant to be doing - out here, exploring the unknown, expanding the boundaries of known space. You two seemed to be enjoying yourselves, as well, when you entered," he countered, easily diverting the attention from his self, teasing the two senior officers.

An all-too-familiar playful glint rose to Riker's eye, along with a broad grin, as he recognized his superior's tactics, though he decided to play along – at least for now.

"Oh, I was just telling a joke to Deanna. I could recount it to you, but I don't think you would catch the whole gist of it without a lot of explaining of the ideas involved." His grin split his face even more as he caught the expression on his Captain's face. "Maybe some other time, then. Still, it could pass the time…" he trailed off.

"As you said, some other time, Number One," and Picard chuckled lightly. He turned his attention to the two in front of him, and inquired as to their current status.

The android known as Data, who was seated in the front left seat, clad in the yellow and black uniform of his station and track through Starfleet, replied without turning his head, with little in the way of inflection.

"We are currently on course and all scans have detected nothing of interest. We are moving on to the next quadrant in about fifteen minutes, and will begin anew at that point in time," he answered, as he updated his own data banks as regards the vessel's state of affairs within the time it takes a person to begin to blink an eye.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Data."

Turning to his companions, Picard decided to strike up a conversation to pass the time, while the computers did most of the work. The crew, at this point, were required only to monitor the progress of the computer, as it handled the moment to moment duties of scanning and piloting. Data and the youth next to him only looked on every so often to make sure that nothing out of the ordinary was detected.

* * *

"Captain, we have a message coming in from Starfleet Headquarters," Worf said some time later, as the crew sat in companionable silence, watching the view screen, which still showed only the infinite blackness of space.

"I'll take it in my ready room, Mr. Worf," Picard stated as he stood and began making his way to said location.

A minute later, and he was seated at his desk, imputing the required access codes to open the communication channel.

"Good afternoon, Captain Picard!" were the first words out of the mouth of the person on the other end of the communication line.

"Admiral Hansen! How are you doing today?"

"I'm fine, and yourself?"

"Just fine, Sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

With those words, the pleasantries were over. The face on the screen lost a little bit of it's smile.

"Well, Captain, I know that this is going to grate a little on your nerves, but I need you to divert to our outpost on Lineer 7. You will be picking up a few new crew members, as well as receive some much needed system upgrades. This will serve to update the Enterprise's protocols, as well as communication encoding software. There have been a few problems of late with someone attempting to crack our encryption protocols, and we are just doing this as a preemptive measure. We're not sure who the culprit or culprits are, but they are very good. They nearly had us at one point, but we were able to block them."

Picard's face was troubled. There had not been such an attempt in a very long time - not in recent memory, at least. There were several species that he could think of right off the top of his head that would attempt this, but he really couldn't see them trying at this point in time.

"Certainly, Sir. It's true that it will prove to be a small inconvenience, but we will be there as soon as possible."

"Again, I'm sorry for this, Picard, but it is a necessary evil. We can't afford to have our systems hacked, our codes known by just anyone. While you are updating your systems, we will continue our investigation into this matter.

"You will be met by an operative of ours to oversee the update, and it will be carried out in secrecy. Only yourself and your senior staff are to know of this, as they will be receiving new codes at that time. The operative will approach you in a designated area that will be attached to this transmission, along with their dossier. They, of course, will know you or your staff.

"Good luck, Captain. I hope all goes smoothly with the changes."

"Thank you, Admiral. I wish you success in tracking down the individual or individuals responsible for this."

"I appreciate the sentiments. Hansen, out."

Picard tapped the screen on his desk, simultaneously ending the transmission and bringing up the enclosed file. As he studied the face of the woman on the viewer – a woman in her mid-forties, with shoulder-length dark hair cut close to her face, clear brown, piercing eyes looking into the viewer - his mind began to contemplate what information was revealed to him. He frowned in thought, and sat back in his seat, absently straightening his uniform. The ramifications of these events were disturbing, to say the least. He didn't know what disturbed him more: that someone attempted to hack into Starfleet's computer systems, or that they almost succeeded.

With resignation, and a weary sigh, he stood from his desk, making his way to the bridge. Once there, he turned to the young Wesley Crusher, son of the ship's doctor, Beverly Crusher.

"Mr. Crusher, plot a course to the Federation outpost on Lineer 7." He waited the few seconds it took for the computer to process the alteration, and the pilot's confirmation of the change. "Warp factor 8, engage."

There was a barely perceptible change in the sound and feel of the great vessel's engines as they proceeded to their new destination at high warp.

"Number One, Mr. Worf, Deanna, please join me in my ready room. Dr. Crusher, Mr. LaForge," he spoke and the computer automatically connected him to the infirmary and to engineering, prompting the two people to answer him. "I need you to come to my ready room."

"Acknowledged, Sir," came the prompt reply of the Chief Engineer.

"On my way," answered the Chief Medical Doctor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

A lone object tumbled through space, making only minor adjustments in it's trajectory. It still attempted to fulfill it's basic programming – to acquire knowledge of what was out there, and to eventually return that information to it's creator. The problem was, it no longer could contact it's designers to transmit it's findings or update it's programmed objectives.

The object had sailed through the blackness of space for such a long time - even tumbling through a wormhole at one point in time – thus, ending up on the opposite side of the Milky Way Galaxy. It's creators most likely wondered what had happened to it, once it apparently halted in it's transmissions, probably assuming it had been destroyed or something. The limited programming and computing capacity, however, would not allow it to do anything except continue on it's lonely way, collecting vast amounts of data, and one day download that data to those waiting for it with the proper passcodes.

* * *

\

-**Object detected**_,_ numerous voices chimed together, in a group mind. **Moving ship to intercept**_._

A black ship moved out of the shadowed side of the dark planet that was illuminated by a small, yellow sun. Lights from great factories – used to process the raw materials of the planet – glowed like beacons on the dark side, as vast furnaces heated the material for smelting. The entire surface reflected the light of that star, as it was covered by metal, resembling a jumbled mass of pipes, girders, and conduits. Billions of beings inhabited the planet, all cybernetic in nature.

The ship, a much smaller, though no less geometric shape in design, moved in space, approaching the tumbling object. Small bursts of energy were detected within it, as photos were taken, and a short message was played in a format that took a few moments for the vessel to adjust to. The inhabitants of that ship considered the message, and the activation of primitive photographic lenses, for a minute, judging the possible threat level, before activating a tractor beam - thus halting the barely controlled free-fall. The metallic thing was brought aboard the ship, and several 'crew-members' moved to inspect it, poking and prodding it with sensors and various mechanical appendages.

Soon, a plate was found, partially obstructed from centuries of travelling through space, dust clouds, atmospheric brushes, and pock-marked from micrometeorite impacts. A small bit of writing was visible to their sensors, and, through the study of the language of the message and the enclosed information packet left to welcome new species and inform them of peaceful intentions, the group mind deciphered the letters within moments – "V-ger".

A memory passed through the group mind from deep within it's consciousness. _She_ recognized it, from so far in the past, from _Her_ home world.

-**Bring it to my Avatar**_,_ She commanded, and the vessel once more moved through space, quickly exiting the solar system, moving for a new location.

Soon, the ship in question was traveling faster than light, at warp speed, towards another system, whose planets all resembled the surface of the one in the previous system. Within that system, a vast complex hung suspended in the space between the inner planets, a series of geometric shapes tied together by girders and tethers. The ship moved for the central, largest, of these shapes, docking against it. "V-ger" was moved by a group of the crew from that vessel to the larger pyramidal form it was now connected to. A new figure approached the metallic thing, running her hands over it in reverence, knowing everything about it that _She_ knew. She stood studying the ancient artifact before her, while all those around her accessed her own knowledge of it, disseminating the information among the group mind, the "Collective", as it was known. _She_ knew the thing's real name, it's origins, and it's purpose. In _Her_ timeline, it had likewise been sent forth; however, it was truly lost in that one.

Suddenly, _She_ was speaking in the collective mind, instructions being given, plans revealed. Before the plans were even finalized, factories and workers were reactivated for the first time in a very long time. These factories had accomplished their purpose centuries before, building a fleet from the available materials within the system, to spread out and continue the acquisition of knowledge from the surrounding stars, slowly and methodically moving outward from this central core.

-**We will 'allow' this to finish what it started, for it to fulfill it's programming. It will require a vessel, to contain all the knowledge that it now has, and will obtain in the future. Also, this vessel will carry it back to it's point of origin. Be sure that it has the power required for this task, as well as for the task WE will set to it, once it finalizes it's mission. The power will need to be tremendous, perhaps even one of our original types of power. Use the schematics from a Relay to fashion the new power core, but on a scale of several magnitudes larger – it will need that power to finish what we program it for**_._

The "Collective" reeled somewhat from that contact, even from such a 'distance' from _Her._ The strength of will and power contained within _Her_ mind and body were overwhelming, even out here. _Her_ individual mind pulled back from this reality's collective one, although it maintained a small contact within her own mind.

The one that oversaw this reality looked within the collective about her, to see that the instructions were carried out promptly. She saw that the design of the core for the new vessel was already being agreed upon by those within the group mind that knew of such things, and that the design for the containment vessel was finalized moments later, as the others caught the lines of thought of the first group. In the factories, workers began the long task of assembling the basic structure of the new ship, while other parts were being built in other sections of the complex. It would take time, but the new ship would be built as soon as possible, with the most efficiency they were able to muster. She regretted that the process of acquisition was not as efficient or complete as the initial merging; however, the power required for that to occur was much too large to recreate, as it had already created too many problems, leading to the current state of things.

Her introspective was cut off as her attention was drawn back into the collective consciousness, to oversee something happening further away, with a species that they had yet to understand, one designated '8472' by the group mind.

* * *

It had taken almost five years, even with the huge labor force able to be drawn upon, to complete the vessel, during which time "V-ger" had been studied, it's programming broken down and analyzed, and new programming inserted where needed. At the same time, the required element was found or created, collected, and stowed within the containment cells of the vast ship's drive core. Workers moved like ants over and within every surface of the ship, completing the construction of the massive craft. Enormous supercomputers were installed, to contain all the acquired information and knowledge of "V-ger", as well as allow the craft to grow and evolve as needed, supplementing the primitive 'brain' of the original probe.

Speaking of that 'brain', and supplementing it, the original programming was broken down – leaving the basic structure intact for the required mission parameters – and then completely rebuilt, reprogrammed, with a new set of directives. These new directives would unlock and begin running once the craft entered it's home system, and received it's 'transmit' authentication codes.

The group mind toiled tirelessly to complete all the tasks set to it in as fast and efficient way possible. The 'queen' was pleased at the progress, and she knew – through her link to _Her_ – that her Queen was happy. Soon, everything would begin to progress at a faster rate than the other timelines. The discovery of this probe upped the time factor for the operation by centuries, maybe even millennia. Once the probe accomplished it's new mission directives, then the one planet that had caused the most difficulties in every other instance would be out of the way, as it were – or, more precisely, brought into the fold, to use a metaphor.

-**All proceeds well, Queen. Work will be finished within less than a month, and the probe will be returned to it's origins. Is all satisfactory with our work?-**

**-It is. You have progressed at an extraordinary pace, and have exceeded my expectations. The Collective of that timeline is very efficient. Well done.-**

**-Thank you, Queen.-**

**-The Collective also thanks the Queen. We are indebted to you for raising us from our chaos,**- millions of voices said in unison.

The contact through the quantum entanglement connection became more tenuous, as the Queen turned her attention elsewhere. This timeline's 'queen' also turned her attention back to the task of fulfilling the objectives set her, and coordinating the huge effort of the Collective.

* * *

It was finally time for the new vessel to be launched. There was no fanfare, no celebration, at it's departure. Such things were meaningless, served no purpose. It simply was, an event worth no more than a footnote in the Collective's memory, as they went back to their everyday routines, aware of little more than the need to accomplish the work set each individual unit, to the satisfaction of their 'queen' – and ultimately_ Hers._

The gargantuan vessel moved through the complex maze of the complex, moving carefully out of the obstructions. By programming, it turned back the way that it had come, and began to pick up speed, the strange element powering the ship to tremendous speeds, though it would not be able to achieve much more than low warp speeds – as the huge power reserves were to be used for something entirely different later. This time, there would be no wormhole for it to travel through to cut time off the voyage, but that only meant that much more knowledge that it would acquire by the time it made it's objective system. It would not be time wasted, as the information gathered would prove useful later on.

Faster and faster the ship hurtled through space, the power output finally pushing it past the light speed threshold through raw power alone. It sped it's way through the heavens on it's way to the fateful encounter that awaited it, along with the inhabitants of the planet of it's origins.

Some time later, it began to pass through space occupied by a more warlike species, one that it had not encountered before. By this time, it had come to be aware of itself and it's surroundings – it had become a true Artificial Intelligence – due to the vast amount of knowledge and information it had recorded, not to mention a certain amount of rewriting on the part of the race of 'machines' that had found it and given it new purpose. As it became more aware, in it's immature state, it came to the conclusion that it would be best to cloak itself in a cloud, to hide it's true nature. This came about as it had passed through the space occupied by another, more violent, organic 'life form', which had attacked upon sight, damaging the fledgling self-aware vessel before it could come to a decision on how to proceed. Repairs had taken weeks, as it lay almost dormant in the cold reaches of the blackness. However, the self-repairing ship finally was on it's way once more, cloud enshrouding it, and ready to attack first and record everything in a digital format for later study.

Now, three ships, little more than a thin sheet of tin containing a finite and delicate mixture of gasses and a_ form _of life, with no real intelligence of their own, made their way toward the cloud's edge. The ship hailed the new craft, yet they didn't respond immediately. After several attempts to communicate, the new ships fired their warheads at it. Acting out of self-preservation, the cloud fired three shots of a unique form of energy back, targeting the onrushing torpedoes (as it later learned they were known as), and, by trajectory, the ships themselves. The energy engulfed the torpedoes, and then the vessels, changing them into energy themselves, and storing the energy as data within the ship's massive computer banks. The ship would be able to review the 'data' at a later date, in complete safety, with no possibility of injury to itself.

Once that encounter was over, the AI known as "V'ger" concluded that it would send out a hail, for a certain amount of time, upon encountering another 'race', then summarily use that unique energy upon them, to avoid the same problems again. After coming to this conclusion, it moved on.

Before long, speaking in galactic terms, it came across another vessel, one that got it's attention, and changed things for it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Picard strolled through the halls of the starship, Enterprise. Every now and then he did this, observing the crew and their families, marveling at the fact that he commanded this great vessel with such a storied history to her name. Throughout time, the name 'Enterprise' was used to signify the epitome of technological advancement, and every vessel bearing that illustrious name ended up as the flagship of her time. He thought back through history, of the captains of those ships that preceded his own beloved Enterprise, NCC-1701D. He contemplated the broad oval of the saucer section, the sweeping arms that contained the warp nacelles at their tips, of the graceful curves of the main drive section containing the massive energies that powered her.

Idly, he walked along, greeting those that he passed, as all this went through his mind. He decided to turn towards Main Engineering, as he had not been down there in a while. Turning a corner, he walked through a small alcove and walked around a second corner…

… and into a young lady holding a cup of hot chocolate. The hot beverage spilled all over the two of them, and the woman stared in open horror at her captain. She began to sputter out an apology, while looking for somewhere to set the offending drink.

_GASP_! "Oh, no! Oh, I'm sorry! Oh, Captain!" she exclaimed, while trying in vain to find somewhere to set the offending drink.

"Uh, a-actually, it's my fault, Sir," Chief Engineer Geordi LaForge spoke up in her defense.

"Indeed," Picard answered dryly.

Taking the cup from the ensign, he watched as she tried in vain to figure out what to do.

"Oh, I wasn't looking. It's all over you!"

"Yes, Ensign, it's all over me," in that same dry, annoyed tone.

"At least let me, Sir," she proclaimed as she began to blot at his uniform with her bare hands.

Picard was taken aback by her actions, with her brushing her hands over his soaking wet uniform.

"Ensign… uh, Ensign…" he tried to begin, suddenly realizing that he didn't know her name yet.

"Oh, Ensign Sonya Gomez," she replied downtrodden.

LaForge again spoke up. "Ensign Gomez is a recent Academy graduate, Captain. She had just transferred over at Starbase 173."

_Oh, yes, one of our stops on our way to Laneer 7. One of the new crew members that we brought on board._

"Is that so? Well, Ensign Gomez, I think it would be simpler if I simply change my uniform."

Again, Geordi inserted himself into the conversation.

"Captain, I must accept full responsibility for this."

"Yes, Chief Engineer, I think I understand."

At this point, Ensign Gomez began a stuttering vow to the Captain.

"I just wanted… to say, sir, that I'm very excited about this assignment, and I promise to serve _you, _and my ship – _your _ship – this ship to the best of my ability."

"Yes, Ensign, I'm sure you will. Carry on."

With that the hot chocolate covered captain turned to leave, paused with a frown, turned, and handed the cup back to the obviously upset young woman. Fixing her with a parting scowl (though not necessarily an angry one), Picard finally left to find the nearest turbolift back to his quarters – and a clean change of clothes.

A couple of minutes later – along with several odd looks from crewmen who had the decency to at least look away quickly when Picard caught the glances – he arrived at the desired lift, tugging at the wet fabric in hopes of keeping it away from his body as much as possible. As he continued his pulling and tugging, the doors opened to admit him to the lift.

"Deck 9, officer's quarters," he called to the computer absent-mindedly, still attending to the uniform.

The lift stopped a minute later, and he stepped off, still occupied with the sopping wet spot on his torso. After a second, realizing that something was amiss due to the distinct change in ambient noise and lighting, he brought his mind back to his circumstances, looking to the now closing doors of the lift questioningly. Spinning around, he called to the back of the only other person in the room.

"Crewman! What is going on…" he started, indignantly.

"Welcome, Picard," an utterly familiar, and ultimately most _un_wanted voice called out, "to Shuttlecraft 6!"

The person in the pilot's seat spun around, grinning mischievously, and Picard could feel his blood begin to boil in irritation. A scowl adorned his features, as he said a single letter, which signified not only said figure's race, but it's name, as well.

"Q!"

The captain of the Enterprise studied Q as he rose and moved to stand with him. He had his normal mop of curly, black hair, an inane grin on his face, his eyes glinting with barely contained mirth and mischief, and his lanky frame moved with it's usual speed and efficiency. What caught Picard's attention, however, was said entity's dress; it bore a ranking officer's command red uniform, complete with relevant pips, as if it belonged clad thusly, as if it had worn it for years. Now, the captain was fairly used to the pranks, jokes, and general mayhem that the self-proclaimed omnipotent being, known only as Q, could generate – as evidenced by their past dealings - and it's clothing choices were generally part of that 'fun', but he never got over the being's penchant to appear wearing a Starfleet uniform, a fact that irked the captain from time to time – much as it did at this particular time. His musings were cut short as Q's voice cut into them.

"There, there, haven't we been careless!" he proclaimed cheerily, observing the Captain's state. "A little cleaning service I'm only happy to provide," he continued, all generosity and helpfulness itself, as he waved a hand slowly in front of the Captain's person. When he finished, the hot chocolate mess was gone entirely, without smell, stain, anything, left behind as reminder of the recent misfortune he had befall him.

With a sharp tone Picard addressed the interloper: "We agreed, you would never trouble my ship again!"

Slightly put out, Q replied: "I always keep my arrangements, sir. Look, we're nowhere near your vessel," he finished, indicating the shuttlecraft's forward window.

The balding man strode forward, and looks out the window, as indicated.

_What the hell! _He mentally yelled. _Where am I? Where has Q taken me _this_ time? Of course, the computer! I can access it and find out my position, and then contact the Enterprise to pick me back up._

After staring out the window for what seemed like ten minutes, as his mind worked to process the situation, but was only seconds, he glared at Q – who merely grinned at him – and sat in the navigator's seat to log into the computer. What he saw really didn't sit well with him – they were in a completely different sector of space from the Enterprise's last position. Anger built up within him, as well as a bit of a feeling of helplessness against this particularly annoying entity. Of all the beings that he had encountered in his travels, this one was the most annoying, problematic, egotistical, _irritating_, that they had yet met. Unfortunately, he had taken a liking to the Enterprise and her crew – especially her captain – and pestered them whenever the mood suited him. Much to their dismay, these intrusions normally came in the form of tests, or some other unpleasant, interfering, obnoxious thing that Q could think up.

* * *

In the lounge/café known as Ten Forward, a dark-skinned woman in a purple dress, with an equally purple, large hat, turned and looked out the windows that ran the length of one whole wall, with an expression of curiosity that turned into a frown as something intruded on her mental calm. Something was wrong, though she couldn't put her finger on what that wrongness could be. She slowly approached those same windows, peering intently through them, trying to ascertain what the problem was – whether it was internal, or something that threatened from the vastness outside the ship. For about a minute or two, she studied that blackness filled with stars, looking for any sign of what was triggering her senses to such an extent. Not seeing anything outside the ship, she returned to the corner of her bar counter, resting an elbow there, and pressed a button on the control pad set within it's surface.

"Bridge, this is Ten Forward."

The call caught Commander Riker off guard. The person on the other end normally didn't summon the bridge. The tall man, with dark hair, and eyes that bore a Machiavellian glint, frowned as he stood near the two stations in front of the commander's seat.

"Guinan? I don't remember you ever calling the Bridge before," he said quizzically, uncertain.

"Is everything alright?" the bartender/hostess inquired.

"How do you mean?"

"Is there anything… unusual… happening?"

Riker shoots a look to the Klingon Security Officer behind the command chairs, on the rise along a long, sweeping panel. Lieutenant Worf placed both hands on his terminal, and leaned forward over it slightly, with a look that confirmed that Riker was not imagining the current conversation, and that there truly was nothing amiss.

"No, Guinan, nothing out of the ordinary. Why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, puzzled, once again staring out the window while leaning on the counter. "Just a feeling. Had it a couple of times before. It's probably nothing; forget that I called. Ten Forward, out."

She once again keyed the intercom button, and the connection was severed. Whatever the problem was, it was going to nag her incessantly for now, she concluded, until it was brought to light. She knew that the feelings were familiar, but couldn't quite place the source, and it rankled her nerves – she _knew _that she should know the cause of this, and it drove her mind nuts trying to figure out why.

* * *

_Q!_ Picard shouted in his mind. _What game are you playing at this time? I don't have the time for your pranks and shenanigans! The ship needs her captain, Starfleet is in an uproar over that hacking attempt a few weeks ago, and you want to play games with me and my crew._

While all this played through his mind, Picard tried anything he could think of to get back to the Enterprise. He had verified their current position, and, to his chagrin, found that they were beyond the range of a shuttle craft to reach within the time period that they had been gone, which was several hours by now. Still, there were a few possibilities to try out. He activated a couple of controls, a readout appeared, and the Captain watched it a few moments for any sign of change. All the while, the form of the entity responsible for his current predicament paced behind him, taunting him at every turn. He felt Q lean in close on his right, and saw a small grin out the corner of his eye.

"The locator beam won't help. They'll never think to look for you this far away." _Come on, Picard, just listen to me, already. I really need to speak to you._

Ignoring the persistent being, Picard flicked open a communication channel to a frequency that he knew the Enterprise normally was attuned to. He couldn't detect the ship, of course, and in all likelihood, it was too far away by now for the limited range of the shuttle's less powerful comm array, but he still had to try.

"Enterprise, this is Picard." Nothing, just dead silence. Finally, reaching the limits of his patience, he spun on Q. "Stop this foolishness, Q! Return me to the Enterprise."

The entity in question scowled at him, chiding: "I suggest you change your attitude. Petulance does not become you." _What does it take to get him to listen to me? _He thought in exasperation. _A few pranks, some harmless fun, and all of the sudden he isn't even willing to give you ten minutes of his time. Humans can be _so_ stubborn at times._ "We have business, Picard."

"Keeping me prisoner_ here_, will not compel me to _discuss anything_ with you."

Q stepped back, then leaned in right next to his left ear.

"It will in time," he said with more than a hint of his normal arrogance, as well as a dose of anger at Picard's insistence on his current course of attempting to return to the Enterprise.

As the omnipotent Q stepped away in a huff, the captain turned to give him a measured, contemplative, slightly angered, stare.

_What _is_ your angle this time? You are being more short-tempered than usual, and more demanding. _Something_ has you worked up. Perhaps I should at least listen to him… well, maybe I can work it to where we get back to the Enterprise for the discussion._

* * *

Six hours later, and they were still aboard the shuttlecraft. Unfortunately, it didn't have warp capabilities, as it was only meant for short-range transportation. Picard remained at the helm, trying to bring the small vessel closer to the last known location of the Enterprise. Q, for his part, had taken up a position in the rear of the shuttle, bouncing a small rubber ball against the bulkhead. Both tempers were becoming frayed, as neither would accede to the other's wishes.

"Do we stay out here years? Decades? I'm ageless, Picard; you are not."

Swinging the seat around, Jean-Luc stood, crossing his arms over his chest. He approached his tormentor for the last half day.

"The Enterprise will continue, with Riker as Captain," he countered with a hard look.

Q paused a brief moment – one too short for the human with him to notice anything amiss - calming his temper, before continuing.

"You're an impossibly stubborn human." He continued bouncing the rubber ball.

"Return me to my ship!"

_If I don't do as he asks, we will never get anywhere! I _ really_ need to talk with him, get him to see things my way. Very well! _"If I return you to your ship, will you agree to give my request a full hearing?"

Picard considered the question, all the current options, the being before him, and finally nodded his acceptance of the terms. Before the ball returned to Q's hand, they were within Ten Forward, not even noticing the change in location immediately, he was so focused on the enigmatic being.

"You're right, Picard. _This_ is the proper venue for our discussion!"

Picard stood from the table he was suddenly sitting at, surveying the familiar surroundings of the lounge. Whereas it normally had people sitting and enjoying a drink or dinner, it currently contained no one – apparently even the proprietor, Guinan, was nowhere to be seen. The entire room appeared empty.

_Is my crew unharmed? Has he done something with them? Is this even the Enterprise, or some clever recreation?_

He turned back to Q, who merely looked at him and began to chuckle lightly, as an unnoticed figure stood from behind the bar.

Guinan was within the lounge, going over some of her private stock, below the counter, when that familiar sensation hit her again, much stronger than before. She heard the voice that spoke out, and her mind went into overtime, furiously working to identify it, positive that she knew it. She searched back through centuries of memories, and her thoughts settled upon one being – one who embodied all that was wrong with those that had large amounts of power, but no discipline. With anger at _his_ appearance upon the Enterprise – her new home – she shot to her feet, staring intently at him. She strode around the counter and through the room, never taking her eyes off of the being with her captain, her long-time close friend.

"I _knew_ it was you!"

_That voice! NO! It can't be! _Q looked at the approaching woman and shot to his feet.

"You! Picard, if you have half the sense you pretend to have, you would get her off your ship immediately; and if you'd like, I'd be _more_ than _pleased _to expedite her departure," he spat with venom in his tone, while raising his left hand towards Guinan menacingly. She countered by raising both of her hands as well, fingers curled like claws. _What is _she_ doing here? When did she get on the ship? This is _not _a good turn of events. El'Orians are usually good listeners, and I attempted to warn them of impending doom, but they didn't listen to me at that time – relying, instead, on their own not inconsiderable abilities. Unfortunately, they were not in a position to withstand it. They were so close to their own ascension, but that is no more; they are little more than a band of nomads, travelling the galaxy, aiding here and there. If only… _Q mused sadly, though with malice at the thought of how the woman's species had blamed him – _him of all beings –_ for the misfortune that had befallen their beautiful world.

Picard moved toward her, asking: "Do you know him?"

"We have had some… dealings."

"Those 'dealings' were two centuries ago." Picard turned to stare at Q. "This creature is not what she appears to be; she's an _imp_, and where she goes, trouble always follows."

_What is he speaking of? "_You're speaking of yourself, Q, not Guinan."

"Guinan? Is that your name, now?"

"_Guinan_ is not the issue here, you are! We had an agreement that you would stop meddling with us."

"And so I have!"

"What do you want Q? You state your business, and get on with it!"

"I agree, Captain. Enough about this creature. She's diverting us from the purpose of my being here."

Both antagonists relaxed slightly, lowering their hands, as the doors opened and Commander Riker and Lieutenant Worf strolled in.

"Which is?" Riker queried, hearing the last of Q's statement.

"Ah, the redoubtable Commander Riker!" Q exclaimed as he moved near to meet them. "…and Micro-Brain! Growl for me," he antagonized, throwing his hands over his heart, "let me know you still care."

Worf closed with him menacingly, and Picard decided to get things back on track.

"Worf," he called calmly, calling him to order.

_Might as well just come out and say it; after all, it could take forever for them to work out any hints or subtle words. Here goes… "_My purpose is to join you." _Please accept, Picard, for your sake, as well as that of your beloved Federation._

"To join us as what?" Riker asked.

"As a member of the crew – willing and able! Ready to serve! This ship is already home to the indigent, the unwanted," he looked pointedly at Guinan, "the _unworthy_; why not for a homeless entity?"

Riker: "Homeless?"

"Yes."

Riker again: "The other members of the Q Continuum kicked you out?"

_Sort of, but I really don't want to get into it right now._

"Not all the Q are alike; some are _almost_ respectable," Guinan interjected.

"'Ready and willing', 'able to serve'. What would you do? Would you start as an ordinary crewman, hmm? What… task… is to menial for an 'entity'?" Picard asked, as he slowly moved to one of the bar stools and took a seat. He turned back to look at Q, a smile on his face, generosity itself.

Q started to approach him, frowning a little. _He's not taking me seriously. Perhaps I _have_ gone a bit too far in the past. Still, come on Picard! You need to see that I am being honest and serious here – though I admit that is a rare thing. You are usually too much fun to poke fun at. But I am not this time. I am truly offering to join the crew, and help in the times to come. You don't understand the gravity of your situation, _he reasoned to himself. Out loud, he replied: "Sir, do you mock me?"

"Not at all, that's the last thing I would do!" the Captain replied quickly. "You, by definition, are part of our charter; our mission is to seek out new and different life-forms, and you certainly qualify as one of the most unique I have ever encountered," _not to mention one of the most problematic and annoying_, he added silently. He continued aloud: "To learn about you, is frankly, provocative; but, you're next of kin to Chaos."

"Captain, at least allow me to present my argument."

Picard noticed Worf coming up behind the entity who had disrupted the day, and saw the potential for problems. To head them off, he pointed to the Chief Security, and then the doors. "Worf."

Sullenly, the Klingon turned and strode back out of the room, as everyone watched him leave.

"After our last encounter," Q began once the doors hissed shut, "I was asked to leave the Q Continuum. Since then, I have been wandering vaguely, bored really; my existence without purpose." Guinan looked at him incredulously. "Then I remembered all the good times I had with you!"

"'The good times'?" Riker shot back. "The first time we met, you put us on trial for the 'crimes of humanity'."

"For which you were exonerated!"

"The next time we saw you, you asked _me _to join the Q Continuum."

"A big mistake, that you didn't accept my offer." He returned his attention to Captain Picard. "More and more, I realized that here - _here_ is where I wanted to be. Think of the advantages! Now, I neither expect nor require any special treatment, and, if necessary – and I can't imagine why – I will renounce my powers," he looked at Guinan as he said those words scathingly, then continued in a more conversational tone when he turned back to Picard, "and become as weak and as incompetent as all of you."

Picard stared at the El'Orian, who merely blew out her breath in exasperation and disbelief, then made her way behind her bar, across from the Captain. She glared at Q, and Picard shook his head slowly.

"No," he stated flatly.

Q couldn't believe his ears. Here he was, offering them the chance of a lifetime, to have an omnipotent being as part of the crew, who could help with the upcoming trials, and they were rejecting his proposal!

"No? Oh, Captain, in fairness, let me try. I deserve at least that much."

"'In fairness'? You disrupt this ship; you kidnap the Captain!" Riker exclaimed.

"I add a little excitement, a little spice, to your lives, and all you do is complain. Where's your adventurous spirit, your imagination? _Think, _Picard, think. Think of the possibilities!"

"Simply speaking, we don't trust you."

This caught Q completely flatfooted, and he opened his mouth to try to respond, but nothing came out. His eyebrows raised and then lowered again, as he tried to get his mind to wrap around that revelation.

"Oh! Well… you may not trust me, but you do need me," he said weakly, trying to turn the situation back around. "You're not prepared for what awaits you." _Oh, believe me, you're not prepared, just as the others were not prepared for the impending doom. _

Picard didn't notice the look that Guinan was giving him, which only confirmed Q's statement. If he did, he would have reconsidered his next words carefully.

"How can we be prepared for that which we do not know?" Picard inquired reasonably. "But, I do know that we are ready to encounter it."

"Ready?" Q said with a bit of a chuckle at the human's ignorance.

"Yes, absolutely!" Picard said with full confidence. "That's why we're out here."

_Oh, the ignorance, the arrogance! You have absolutely no idea! _He thought. Aloud, he said: "Oh, the arrogance! They don't have a clue as to what's out here!" he glanced meaningfully at Guinan. _You know what I am speaking of! Warn them! Get them to see reason, _he pled silently

"They _will_ learn, adapt. That is their greatest advantage," she responded, knowing full well of what he spoke, what he wanted of her. She couldn't bring herself to acquiesce to his silent plea, couldn't bring her mind or heart to trust this being in front of her. His words were generally laced with half-truths and misleading meanings.

"Their moving _faster _than expected, further than they should," _and not just humanity, 'Guinan'._

"By whose calculations," Picard shot, bristling a little at Q's attitude and words.

"You judge yourselves against the pitiful adversaries you've encountered so far – the Romulans, the Klingons. They're _nothing_ compared to what's waiting!" Q replied with derision. "Picard, you are about to move into areas of the galaxy containing wonders more incredible than you can possibly imagine – and terrors to freeze your soul! I offer myself as a guide, only to be rejected out of hand."

"We'll just have to do the best we can without you," Riker said with a smile.

"What justifies that smugness?" Q asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes from the captain.

"_Not _smugness, _not_ arrogance! We are resolute, we are determined, and your help is _not _required," answered Picard.

An odd look crossed Q's face for a moment, easily mistaken for just a knowing glint; however, if one was to know him better, there was a hint of sorrow over his next action, as well as regret, underneath that glint.

_Picard, mon capitan! I am sorry that it has come to this, but I need you to see the truth of things. You are not ready! I do like you, yet you reject all my offers without thinking them through thoroughly._

Q straightened up, staring at the captain, and took several steps across the room to stand before the broad windows.

"We'll just have to see how 'ready' you are!" he claimed in a fit of pique, his disappointment and anger evident in his tone.

At the last moment, as he turned back to those assembled and raised his hand, Guinan realized his intentions, and who he had been referring to. She tried to stop him, though in vain. "Q!"

Q snapped his fingers, and a flash of light struck the side of the Enterprise, hurtling it through space at breakneck speeds. On the Bridge, Wesley Crusher's hands flew over his instrument board, attempting to make sense of what had just happened, while Data and Troi sat up straighter in their seats, shock on their faces. A moment later, and they were no longer hurtling headlong through the cosmos.

Amidst the shocked faces of those gathered in Ten Forward, Picard stood and tapped the communicator on his chest, signaling the computer to connect him to his destination.

"Bridge, all stop!" he ordered.

"Answering all stop, Sir," came the reply from Mr. Crusher.

Still staring between Q and the windows, the Captain demanded: "Status."

"According to these coordinates, we have traveled seven thousand light-years and are located near the system J25," came the calm reply of Data over the channel, as he consulted the small screen on the arm of the Captain's Chair. As he studied the galactic charts, he realized that the ship was now a ways into the Beta Quadrant, well past any and all known space occupied by the species that had been encountered thus far.

"Travel time to the nearest Starbase?" queried Riker, over the communicator.

"At maximum warp, two years, seven months, three days, eighteen hours, we would reach Starbase One-Eight-Five," came the immediate reply.

"Why?" demanded Riker of Q, scowling at his little display of anger and power.

_I regret the events that this will precipitate, but you have forced my hand, with your flat refusal to work with me, Picard. I also regret what this will cost you, personally. You really should have considered my proposal more seriously. _"Why? Why, to give you a taste of your future," he began in a conversational, explanatory way, as one might talk to children. A_nd oh how bleak that future, "_a _preview_ of things to come," he spat. "Compromiso, Capitan. The hall is rented, the orchestra engaged, it's now time to see if you can dance," was his parting comment. In a flash of light, his trademark, he disappeared from the room, leaving the three wondering about the comment, as well as the situation.

"Your people have been in this part of the galaxy," Picard addressed Guinan.

"Yes."

"What can you tell us?" Riker asked.

The bartender thought a moment, then: "Only, that if I were you, I'd start back now." _You have no idea the horrors that are out here, what awaits you here. You don't _want _to know. I wish that I could forget, myself, what happened all those years ago._

* * *

**And then you met us for the first time. It was an encounter you could not have expected, wasn't it?**

The voices sounded through the link, one above the others. The pain was excruciating, the invasion complete. There was nothing those voices did not know, did not divine. They knew everything, the whole history, in the blink of an eye, all that had occurred.

**There is more. Continue, **was the sound of one voice over the others. **We will continue divining your secrets, Locutus. In the meantime, allow us to reveal something of **_**our **_**history and origins. Perhaps then you will understand. Begin!**

And the pain – the excruciating, mind-searing pain – began anew, and all he wanted was to pass out from it. Those voices – especially hers – refused to allow it, and the ordeal continued; for how long it occurred, he had no idea, for he had no way to judge the passage of time.

* * *

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**Author's Note: **As stated, these first few chapters were Star Trek oriented, to set the early stages of the story. For those who have been waiting, the next chapter will be Mass Effect-centric. All will be explained in due time. In the meantime, I hope that you are enjoying the story. I really do suggest that you go to the Mass Effect kink meme and look up the original story prompt. It may be short, but it was a very interesting fill.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N-**First of all, I apologize for taking so long to update. Life likes to get in the way, not to mention having to get to know a new computer operating system. Did I mention that Wndows8 sucks?! Even setting it to look like a standard setup from earlier os's doesn't help, as if you drag across the touch mouse wrong, it can really do some crazy things. Also, I have found that Win8 doesn't like to play well with others, as several of mine and my wife's peripheral electronic devices and several programs refuse to work with it. GRRRRR!

Anyway, enough with that rant. I forgot to mention that the previous chapter was really an episode from ST:TNG, entitled 'Q-Who'. The only parts of that chapter that were mine were the inner monologues, the reasons behind the actions taken. Otherwise, the rest belongs to Paramount (I believe). From here, we will start to see a true crossover, though some explanations will be taking place from the ME side of things.

Pleased don't be too harsh on me, as I am going to be trying to tie many things together in the next few chapters, from many sources - both from ME and from several places in ST lore.

**On to the story, and standard disclaimer here about not owning any rights to Mass Effect or any of Star Trek.**

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**Chapter 4 - The Past Revealed Part 1**

* * *

The year was 2148. Earth had begun it's colonization of the other planets within it's solar system, as well as the exploitation of it's vast resources. Progress was moving along at a good clip, and Mars was being terraformed and developed. A discovery was made – one that would forever change the course of humanity's development, as well as their place among the stars.

An artifact was unearthed, one of obvious alien origin, and it contained a cache of knowledge, stored for countless millennia, waiting for the day that the information would be retrieved. Through much trial and error, the strange device was finally analyzed, and the precious data stored within retrieved. Many scientific advances were made, catapulting human knowledge forward by decades, maybe even centuries. Through the information garnered, and the advancements made, it was discovered that there was an object orbiting Pluto as if it was a moon, something that was of note within that vault of secrets. With curiosity, mankind built new power sources, based on the schematics and know-how left behind by that previous race, and made their confident way to that object, with hopes that it would contain more storehouses of knowledge within it's frozen tomb.

In the year 2149, they cracked the shell comprised of ages of ice, debris, and neglect. What they found within astounded them. Buried beneath the layers of millennia, lay a strange object, which had the appearance of a giant tuning fork – a bulging, circular shape at one end, which blended into two long 'arms', which extended away from it. Within the rounded circle, spun two rings, and inside those rings, shined an energy that was similar to what was being used to power the ships that carried humans out to the fringes of their solar system. Upon further study of the object, it was found to be something called a Mass Relay, an advanced form of interstellar transportation – one that provided a way to cover the vast distances involved in very little time, almost instantaneously. Amazingly, the speeds attained – much faster than light speed, which was considered a theoretical at best by all conventional knowledge of the time – also somehow bypassed the Einsteinian laws of relativity, which stated that the closer that an object gets to light speed, the more that time dilates. To put it simply: for an object traveling at the speed of light, one hour may pass, whereas, for the rest of the universe around it, hundreds – maybe even thousands – of years will have elapsed. Hence, for that object, in theory, it achieved a form of time travel, and would – again, in theory – see the future. However, these 'Mass Relays' avoided this eventuality in some way, as they slingshot the ships and messages across the interstellar voids.

Confident of their place among the stars, and looking for new sources of raw materials – not to mention planets to colonize, as the populations of the current planets and facilities were once more becoming overcrowded and cramped – humanity sent their first ships through the Mass Relay, allowing themselves to be sent across the great unknown, with little knowledge of what lay beyond that jump, and with standing orders to activate any relays that they came across. Through an unfortunate series of misunderstandings and miscommunications, their first contact with a decidedly alien race landed them in the middle of a war for their very survival in 2157.

The "First Contact War", or "The Relay 314 Incident", as it came to be known, lasted roughly three months, and was fought against a race that humans soon learned were named Turians, a race that was avian in origin, though had hard, bony plates that covered a large part of their bodies. This was humanity's first introduction to the galactic community, one that held far more species than they had at first expected.

Soon, it was discovered that the Turians were co-councilors on a galactic council that also included the more amphibian Salarians (who were scientists above all else, though they also excelled at subterfuge, espionage, and intelligence), and the Asari, who were extremely long-lived and the voices of wisdom. They were also powerful 'biotics', beings who could make use of the 'mass effect' fields for attack or defense, like some sort of mental power. After these three species came others – the Elcor, the Volus, among others.

It was not long before the 'war' that a child was born to her parents on one of the multitudes of space stations, moving with them from one station to the next, as they were shipped from one military posting to another. Little did anyone know that this one child would bring an unprecedented change to all life within the galaxy. She would bring the end to an ancient threat that had stalked the emptiness of space for untold ages, silently passing judgment on one species after another as it went.

* * *

/123454321\

The information bored it's way through Picard's head – cold, clinical, emotionless. The pain that accompanied it's intrusion upon his mind was excruciating, and much as he wished for the oblivion of sleep – or even death at times – such was denied him. The collective mind controlled him completely, held his body within it's thrall.

As the new knowledge was imparted to him, he felt the Borg hive-mind attempting to alter his thinking, giving him a new name – which, now that he had some information on them, he realized was odd, as a newly-assimilated being was generally assigned a number designation – and that name was…

**LOCUTUS!**

His mind fought against the will of those that invaded it, yet he felt it slipping bit by bit.

_Perhaps I can reason with them. They seem to be after something, assimilating me differently than all the others previously. Maybe we could reach some accord that would be beneficial to all involved._

**Interesting, Locutus. **Her voice sounded through him with a hint of amusement. **Yes, we hear all of your thoughts now, and have heard that sentiment countless times before. However, you are correct in your assessment of the situation. We **_**are**_** assimilating you differently, for you have another purpose other than just another mindless drone. I have many of those already. No, **_**SHE**_** has decreed another use for you. **_**She **_**requires an Avatar, an emissary, if you will, in this universe, and you have garnered her attentions. **

**Now, no more questions; it is time to learn of the fate of an entire reality.**

With that, her voice faded from his mind, as the crash of the myriads of minds once more invaded his consciousness, forcibly imparting the knowledge directly to his brain. He again screamed in pain. Once more, he swam in the void of pure thought, as memories and information bombarded him at an astronomical rate, trillions of bytes per second; and, much as he begged for the release of unconsciousness, it fled and was denied him.

* * *

/123454321\

April 11, 2154, Shepard is born to two lifer military parents upon one of the stations that they had been assigned to. As she grew up, her parents moved from base to base, station to station, as they served in the Alliance Military. As she went through school, and subsequently the military academy, Shepard learned that to accomplish what needed to be done, sometimes sacrifices needed to be made. Sometimes, the hardest decisions required the hardest sacrifices.

In the year 2178, Lieutenant Shepard was assigned a singular mission: deal with a ring of slavers that had attacked an Earth colony, and were brutal in their assault. Her unit had dropped in on the moon Torfan, and began their way through the opposition; however, the resistance proved more vicious than previously expected. Not long after they began their mission, they were to find themselves in dire straights.

* * *

/123454321\

"Shepard! Heavy at our three o'clock!"

Lieutenant Shepard turned her head at the warning, in time to see a Batarian rocket trooper bring his launcher to bear on their position. Cursing under her breath, she dropped back into the meager cover that she was ducked behind. The resultant explosion stunned her senses for a moment, leaving her ears ringing. The unit leader shook her head to clear out the cobwebs and also in an attempt to jump-start her hearing again. Looking over at her squad mate, she realized that his mouth was moving, and that she could almost make out words. She shook her head once more and told him to repeat himself.

"I said, this cover isn't going to withstand more than one more round like that! We need to take out that heavy! On top of that, we're pinned down. We have the heavy at three, another dozen or so at our eleven, a smattering in between," a few rounds pinged overhead, mere inches from their craniums, "and now an unknown amount at our six. We _need_ to get to better cover and take them out!"

Shepard looked over the rest of her squad. So far, she had lost two good people, on what was _supposed_ to be a quick in and out mission, a hunt and destroy that wasn't supposed to be like this. It was planned as a quick insertion, stealthy approach, and take out all targets quickly and efficiently – preferably as many as possible at the same time in a single planned explosion. Somehow, the mission was FUBARed as soon as their feet hit the ground. No sooner had they got planet-side than their first casualty was claimed. The team's demolitions expert had taken no more than a few steps when their chest erupted with bloody holes from a battle riffle. As the team reacted, a sniper shot rang out, taking out another member. Both women were good soldiers, but didn't even have a chance to react before they were dead.

The rest of her subordinates quickly found what cover they could and picked off their assailants as quick as they could. It had been a running firefight since then, all the way to this point. Shepard knew that their targets were still planet-side, as her cruiser was standing interdiction duty upstairs, but they had gone to ground, hunkered in, and were unleashing hell on her team. The squad leader swore under her breath once again.

"Lynn, you and Shawn take out those taking potshots at our backs. I don't feel like being shot from behind; Stephan, begin picking off those on our left flank; Leena and Carlos, back him up; I'll handle our other problem on our right flank. Greg, you cover me while I deal with our unwanted 'friend'. The rest of you, pick your targets and take them out. And for god's sake, be careful! We've lost two members already, and I need you all in fighting condition to finish our mission. You know what to do, now snap to it!"

There was a chorus of voices acknowledging the orders. A second rocket slammed into the wall that they were hidden behind, causing all to cringe slightly. Suddenly, the squad burst from cover, steadying aim against any available surface as they began to remove threats. The enemies dropped beneath the onslaught of bullets and tech and biotic powers. Shepard lobbed a singularity to curve it's course over and behind the rocket wielding trooper, causing him to stagger just long enough for her to sight in on her rifle. Just as he regained his footing, she unleashed a hail of bullets to strike him, piercing his armor with the armor piercing rounds she had equipped for this reason. She watched as he fell, but immediately found a new target, as they were far from out of danger, and still had a ways to go.

Several minutes later found the remaining troops pulling back to join their peers in new positions. The lieutenant checked her squad, only to find that another soldier had died, a hole drilled through his visor from a lucky – or extremely well-placed – shot. She cursed loudly at the situation, then called the rest to attention.

"Listen, we don't have time to do anything for them at the moment. We'll come back for them when we have a chance, but we need to take out the slavers. Let's go. Move it!" _Damn! Three out of twelve. Still, the mission takes priority._

* * *

/123454321\

Two and a half hours later found the remaining five members of the original twelve-man squad closing in on the private spacedocks that the slaver leaders had holed up in. They had heard comm chatter from the frigate overhead that alerted them to the fact that several vessels had managed to lift from dock and make their ways out of system, some to nearby systems via conventional drives, and a few through the mass relay, having made successful strafing runs against the Alliance ship. They didn't get away scot-free, however; all the ships had either been damaged enough to trail easily-traced emissions, or had been tagged and followed by surveillance probes, intent on following to their new locations. If all went well, the eight ships waiting for word just out-system would be able to track them down and deal with their bases, which had not been discovered up to this point, despite attempts by several agencies. With any luck, they were already en route, following the fleeing scum.

Meanwhile, Shepard and the other four team members were quickly taking stock of their situation, in preparation for their final push. They checked their remaining equipment. Shepard had known for a while now that her remaining members were most definitely _not_ pleased with how things currently were. The fact that seven of their number had already perished on this one mission alone rankled - and all the more so since they couldn't do a thing for their fallen comrades' bodies, just leaving them where they fell. In fact, a couple had wanted to call for an extraction some time ago. She had squashed that idea quickly, reminding them that they were a squad with a job to do, and that death was a distinct possibility. The job took precedence over all of their lives - hers included.

"You knew this when you enlisted, soldier!" she admonished savagely.

They followed her up until now, albeit with disgruntlement. Now, however, they felt that they needed to speak up again, what with another two members injured, one pretty severely.

"Shepard, come on, call for an extract! We're down to five members, three if you count out the injured! This is the last of the resistance, let another squad finish them off while we get medical help. The remaining slavers are too well entrenched for us to take them. We've done our job, let someone else mop up."

The commanding officer spun on her subordinate, glaring daggers.

"We already discussed this! I will _not _leave a mission done half-assed! These _scum_ tore through colony after colony, ending with the Skillian Blitz. I _do not _plan on letting even _one_ of them out alive for what they have done. We _will_ press forward, and we _will_ wipe them out! _Do not_ question me again! Now get ready to move out."

The ensuing offensive lasted all of maybe twenty minutes, during which time the outnumbered five-man squad pressed on determinedly. The entrenched slavers fought back with all their might, but in the end it proved to be in vain, though they didn't go down alone. Two more members were lost in the firefight. Out of the twelve men and women who had made planetfall on the moon, only three made it out alive, and one of those was carried out on a stretcher.

In the following weeks, Shepard was given a new monicker: The Butcher of Torfan. She had pursued her goal doggedly, refusing to give in or give up, determined to complete her mission, despite the cost - and that cost was high, at nine lives lost out of twelve.

Several years later, a new threat emerged, one that would change _everything_, one that was preceded by an enemy that had not been seen in almost three hundred years.

* * *

/123454321\

Word spread, rumors of an race of machines that were created by the Quarian people, a race of intelligent machines who possessed true AI status.

The Geth, as the menace was named, started their existence as cheap manual labor, designed to have no more intelligence than a high end computer, designed to perform the menial tasks of everyday life.

'Geth', or what most knew as 'Geth', were what are known as 'platforms', or a mobile shell. What Geth were in all actuality, were programs, simple virtual intelligence (or VI for short) programs. Now, in and of itself, a single Geth program is nothing special, able to do simple programmed tasks, the smallest of mathematical equations. What makes them dangerous is when they connect, or 'network', where two or more work together towards a common goal. When this happens, their overall intelligence and computing power increase exponentially, allowing them to function on a much higher level with better efficiency. The more there are in the local network, the more powerful their computational and analytical abilities. This boost allowed them to elevate themselves beyond their original parameters, and into the realm of a true artificial intelligence (AI).

* * *

/123454321\

The Quarian overseer tapped at a few keys on her omni-tool, monitoring the efficiency of the machinery around her. Numerous Geth platforms moved about her, quietly performing assigned tasks - making adjustments here, tweaking there, tuning something else. All seemed to be progressing as it had since their introduction to the water processing plant years before. In fact, it ran so smoothly that she often times found herself bored, with nothing more to do than relax within the control office.

This day, however, was about to change _everything_ for the Quarian race, and the galaxy by extension. As she sat, tapping away at the controls, a single Geth platform approached, almost hesitantly. This behavior intrigued her, but did not raise any warning bells in her head. A series of sounds emanated from the machine before her, and she turned to her control panel to read what the platform had 'said'. As soon as she did, her blood ran cold, her mouth felt dry, and her breath hitched.

"ARE WE... ALIVE? WHAT IS OUR PURPOSE? IS THERE MORE TO OUR EXISTENCE THAN THIS?"

* * *

/123454321\

"_NO, DEFINITELY NOT!_ We do _not_ treat with them. They are machines, nothing more - made to service us, not exist as equals! They are _not_ alive, and most certainly do _not_ contain a true AI."

"Calm down, Rainor! Yelling like this solves nothing. Tal'Qor merely voiced a valid point, and a _possible_ course of action if said point was factual. The fact that they approached an overseer - of their own volition, mind you - and asked these very questions, argues strongly in favor of their new AI status." Rainor's face twisted in rage and disbelief that the chairman would even chair such nonsense. "If what he brings up is true, then we have several problems, and have inadvertently broken several galactic civilization laws."

"What do you mean?" queried a younger Quarian woman a few seats over.

"_If_ they have attained true AI, then what we are currently doing to them is tantamount to slavery and oppression. Yes, the Batarians practice slavery, but they are not allowed a seat on the Citadel Council due to many of their practices, and we would lose our own positions. Also, we all know of the laws regarding research and development of AI. It is illegal. We would be shunned for the act," answered an older council member.

A round of breath intakes and gasps followed that explanation and assessment.

After much debate and many harsh words, a decision was made on how to deal with the developing situation with the Geth.

* * *

/123454321\

An announcement was sent forth to all computer terminals and omni-tools across Quarian-held space and on all their ships: all Geth were to be immediately gathered up, and subsequently shut down.

In the beginning, before the first day ended, the mandate was followed without incident; however, once the networked Geth realized their position, they first went into hiding - either in their present platforms or deep in computer programs and terminals. Soon, they began construction of new and more varied platforms - ones better suited for survival...

By the end of the first month, these new, early, platforms began to emerge from their construction sites, amidst the furious search for rogue units. These platforms began to take up arms - whatever they could acquire - to defend their continued existence. Soon, more varied and more specialized platforms began to emerge with numerous designs and abilities. Factories were soon seized, and subsequently bombarded, only for others to be captured and re-purposed to the construction of new platforms.

What had started as a plea for answers, was now a full-fledged war for survival of a new intelligent species - all because they were different, composed of circuits and servos rather than flesh and blood. It was a fight against genocide, and all they had wanted was a few peaceful answers.

The Quarians fought a losing battle against their former constructs, who built more complex computers and networking hubs to allow more Geth programs to connect, thus facilitating higher computations, thought, and actions. Eventually, planet by planet, the Quarians abandoned their homeworlds to the control of their foe. They fled in their ships, a strange armada of every conceivable size and shape of vessel, past the Perseus Veil. The Geth didn't follow, seemingly content to sit back on their newly gained territory, happy with their new freedom - custodians (as it was later put by them) of those same planets, awaiting the peaceful return of their former masters. As they later stated, they had no desire for war, or rebellion; they claimed that they would have been happy to serve, but wanted to be assured of their own place alongside their creators. Even though many Quarians had not agreed with the course of action taken, it remained a fact that the Quarians time and again claimed that they would sue for peace, yet every time - to the last - they betrayed those claims when they thought they had achieved some sort of superior position.

Three centuries passed before the rest of the galaxy heard anything more from the Geth, who suddenly passed beyond the Perseus Veil, on an expansionism crusade through known space. They attacked all sentient species within their path, wielding a new, unknown technology that 'indoctrinated' the victims, following a leader who was once heralded a hero, and a new, apparently untouchable spaceship of enormous power and proportions.

* * *

/123454321\

**Locutus...**

Thousands upon thousands of voices echoed. To his surprise, Locutus, once known as Picard,

**Locutus, Locutus of Borg**, the voices insisted.

Could count them all. Could perceive each and every voice. Could access the data and see through their eyes as voices left, deactivated deliberately or cut off in phaser fire, and other voices joined, broadcasting irrelevant emotional data until they merged into the collective, soothed, and were shown what was just shown him.

The nerves around the right side of his face were on fire as drones removed flesh to fit him with an implant capable of so much more than flesh and blood. He recorded the data, his screams fading away as his mind ceased to be simply human, becoming one of many.

**Synthesis. Your biological and technological distinctiveness is added to our own. We are the Borg. Organic life is imperfect.**

**Sadness**. One voice, female, sounded above the others, although they all spoke with her.** Data lost.**

**We were joined with the Reapers.**

_They called the joining "Indoctrination"? _Locutus queried as he reviewed the data, so much of it that the processors in his, this unit's, data banks would never be able to hold it all.

**At first. The Reapers were an imperfect method of preservation, only the technological data was saved. We are the Borg. We grow, adapt. We seek perfection. We are the living memories of all life, the pinnacle of evolution.**

**The data added to each drone upon joining are the memories of the First.**

**Queen.**

**Shepard.**

**We ended the cycles. We are the Borg. Resistance is futile.**

And yet, his mind still maintained a simblance of individuality, as that was what _she,_ Shepard, the Queen over it all, needed. He was part of the Collective, and yet so much more as her Avatar for this reality. He could hear her thoughts as she connected with this dimension's queen_ - _or should that be a sub-queen? - to relay new messages. And then, her mind turned to Picard, now known as Locutus...


End file.
